I tripped over a kerb again today and grazed my knee a bit. I’m so unbalanced.
When I was a little girl and I fell, I used to say that the ground came up and hit me, not that I knew about the whole ‘may the road rise to meet you’ business.
I was always falling.
I think the most momentous was when I fell out the front door.
I’d gone running out to play in the cul de sac, after lunch. We had a long hallway in the house and I ran along it and caught my foot in the slight lip of the door frame and fell and cut my chin. Evil driveway.
Mum and Dad were there in a moment and Dad scooped me up and walked me to the doctor’s surgery, a couple of minutes away.
“Why didn’t you drive her?” asked the peeping talking heads and eyes.
I had to get two stitches, I think. I still have the scar, just about.
No stitches or scars today, just a bit of a graze really. But tripping over in public? It’s still really embarrassing.